


and so it goes

by mine_eyes_dazzle



Category: Castle
Genre: Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 10:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4784558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mine_eyes_dazzle/pseuds/mine_eyes_dazzle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monday morning<br/>(coldcoldcold)<br/>she's curled up in<br/>b-e-d<br/>trying to shut the world out<br/>- because the pain is TOO much --<br/>- freeverse, Kate in the aftermath of her mother's death</p>
            </blockquote>





	and so it goes

**_AND SO IT GOES_ **

* * *

 

Monday morning

_(coldcoldcold)_

she's curled up in

      b-e-d         

trying to shut the world out

\-- because the pain is TOO much --

...

Tuesday morning

<the world is **_burning_** >

everything is

c-r-u-m-b-l-i-n-g

to tiny little pieces

and she knows

[knows so much it hurts to breathe]

that nothing

_ nothing _

can ever be the same again

...

Wednesday morning

there's a bottle on the kitchen table

and her dad's lost in the haze

...

Thursday morning

she didn't sleep

the bed is cold

her heart is numb

the bed is cold

the house is empty

_and the bed is cold_

_..._

Friday morning

outside the front door

a

n

y

t

h

i

n

g

could be happening

she DOESN'T care

or give a damn

to be honest

right now

not while everything she hold dear is

splintering and cracking and _fucking_ falling apart

...

Saturday morning

they should be at the baseball

but for [ _s:o:m:e_ ] reason

they're not

instead they've got their

grief for company and a shadow

ghosting the halls

...

Sunday morning

her heart feels like

like

lik-

li--

l---

[words       fail       her]

...

Monday morning

_(again)_

grey skies

grey heart

grey l-i-f-e

[the colour has drained

it no longer has meaning]

...

Tuesday morning

broken hearts

in the pitch-dark

stumbling around for words to say

[the bottling has more of a claim on him than her, now]

so really

is there any

**_ point? _ **

...

Wednesday morning

looking around

the world is off balance

shifting and turning and

-god forbid-

c¬h¬a¬n¬g¬i¬n¬g

<another sunrise she'll never see>

...

Thursday morning

anger, pouring like

the damn booze that freezes the soul

 and stops the hurt

it comes from within

|from some reserve that she never knew she had|

words burn her tongue

and stain the sky

pouring_pouring_pouring

out

like a rush of blood to the head

...

Friday morning

yet more anger

directed at the world this time

_how dare they take her away?_

when there was so many things she wanted to say

but she

c-a-n-'-t

not now

and so she keeps them inside

(so that one day,

the words she never said will be forgotten

and thing won't hurt

so damn much)

...

Saturday morning

head leaves the pillow

eyes crack open

the mind never leaves the past

...

Sunday morning

life goes on

with no regard for human hearts

and so it goes

...


End file.
